


Etched in Ink

by radiantdean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Tattoo artist!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 11:04:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4703693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiantdean/pseuds/radiantdean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fulfilled tumblr prompts</p>
            </blockquote>





	Etched in Ink

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you're interested, my tumblr is radiantdean (:

Dean swiveled in his chair, abandoning a tattoo sketch at the sound of the bell above the door. He raised his eyebrows, smiling slightly when he saw who’d come to see him.

“I hope you’re finally here for a tattoo,” he said, his green eyes glinting mischievously as he stood, moving to stand behind the desk he kept at the front of the shop. “Can’t have people loitering in the lobby out here you know.”

Cas made his way to the desk, leaning on the hardwood surface. “Well today may be your lucky day. I thought I’d come visit you at work,” he said, glancing around the shop. “It’s a nice place. Granted, I haven’t been in many tattoo shops.”

Dean laughed. “Well, thanks anyway,” he said, shuffling some papers on the desk. “But did I really hear you correctly? Is Castiel Novak finally going to let me ink up that perfect skin of his?”

Cas grinned, his smile lopsided and obviously genuine. “Yeah, you heard me. I’m finally here for one of your famous tattoos.”

“What were you thinking of getting?” Dean asked, leading him farther into the shop.

“Honestly, whatever you want,” Cas said. “I trust you. As big, as elaborate… Anything, seriously.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, looking up at Cas as he sat down, a sketchbook perched on his knee. “You’re kidding.”

“Absolutely not,” Cas said, taking a chair opposite him. “I don’t know what to get, and I figured, hey, you know a lot more about this than I do. I thought I’d give you creative liberty.”

“Oh, you won’t regret this,” Dean said. “Come back tomorrow and we can get started. I’ll just make a quick sketch tonight.”

“Perfect,” Cas said, standing up again and holding out his hand. “It’s great doing business with you.”

Dean shook his hand, smiling as Cas turned to leave before immediately getting to work on his newest task at hand. 

Cas returned the next day, eager to get started. Dean instructed him to removed his shirt and lay face down in the chair.

“I’m going to do a back piece,” was the only clue Dean gave to Cas about what was going to be inked into his skin forever.

That first day, Dean outlined his design, in thin, dark, black ink. Cas winced from time to time, clenching his fists tightly and biting the inside of his lip. Dean had to let him go early because he was so unused to the pain.

The next day, Dean began to fill in the lines he’d already made. He switched colors often, adding swoops, shadows, and mixtures of colors that he didn’t have in his palette. 

As the hours wore on, Cas became more and more curious. Dean really was covering a lot of skin, even inching out onto his shoulders. He tried to get information from him, but Dean would always respond with, “You wanted it to be a surprise, so that’s how I’m going to keep it.”

To pass the time, Cas asked the artist questions. About his family, his childhood, his life now. The first two types were often ignored or answered with a short, blunt, statement, but Dean could talk for hours about his work. He happily described to Cas other pieces he’d done, the colors he’d created, and the images he’d built. Cas was honestly fascinated, which only served to heighten his curiosity.

Finally, Dean put down his machine and wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm.

“Alright,” he said. “It’s done.”

“Seriously?” Cas asked, unable to keep the edge of excitement from his voice as he sat up, wincing slightly as he moved his shoulders around.

“Seriously,” Dean said. “Come on, I’ll show you in the mirror.”

Cas stood up, his anticipation growing with every step closer to the sheet of reflective glass.

“Turn around to face me,” Dean said, standing behind him. As he did so, he caught just a glimpse of colors flashing before he was standing face to face with the artist.

“Ready?” Dean asked, smiling at him. 

“Ready,” Cas confirmed. Dean handed him a small, hand-held mirror.

“Alright, if you move that around, you should be able to see the whole piece.”

Cas practically gasped. An enormous, beautiful drawn set of wings erupted from his shoulder blades and unfurled across the muscles of his back. The colors were magnificent, all vibrant reds and yellows with a few darker shades thrown in as a highlight. Down near his lower back, Dean had added a few sole feathers, looking as if they’d just detached from the wings themselves.

“You like it?” Dean asked, his normally cocky grin absent from his face.

“It’s amazing, Dean. Better than anything I could have ever dreamed up.”

Upon hearing Cas’s words, Dean’s usual grin made a reappearance, and didn’t drop from his face even long after Cas had left his number with him before departing the shop.


End file.
